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A new WordPress theme has been implemented as part of the re-branding process. Blog posting will continue as it normally does, so there are no worries there. Things are looking pretty funky though, so while the regular blog activities are taking place I will be optimizing each post so that it fits normally. Cheers!

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He retreated back into his room, locking the door and sliding the dresser in front of it.

Writing and photography by Penny C.

Jared poked his head out into the hallway cautiously. It was brightly lit, almost blinding his eyes,but he could see nothing. On the other hand he could hear something walking across the linoleum flooring.

A great many somethings.

He retreated back into his room, locking the door and sliding the dresser in front of it. It was time to review his escape since the hallway was no longer a viable route.

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Old Beardless stood, watching the girl at the table nearby. She knew what he was up to, but there was little he could do about it. If he moved an inch everyone would know what he was up to (or assume that they did). That was just another stroke of bad luck on his part. Ever since he had killed the last one his life had been nothing but a series of mishaps.

Old Beardless continued the ruse with a sigh. This is so damn boring, he thought to himself. It wouldn’t be long before she slipped up.

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When he had touched down on the surface of Mars Carlson took out a book-shaped bundle.

Writing and photography by P. L Cobb

Up, up, up. Carlson ascended into the heavens, passing clouds, passing through the ozone layer. Someone must have seen him on his journey upwards; he wasn’t travelling very fast. That thought quickly turned to other, more important things as the vacuum of space pulled at him. Carlson let out a sigh, knowing that it was his own spell that protected him from a sudden and brutal death. Continue reading →

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I had done it again: I had lost my keys in the dark. When and where had they fallen? I was at a loss. With hands curled up into fists I pounded on the door to my home. My roommate was normally there.

Just not tonight.

“Shit!” I swore under my breath. I peeked into the living room window, or tried. Everything in the inside was dark from my vantage-point, so there was no luck there.

I was about to turn around when I heard a tinkling sound. It was the tinkling of spurs, the type you found on cowboy boots. When I looked it was just me and the street lamps. I looked everywhere for the source of the noise, but came up with nothing; all the while the sound started to increase in intensity. It sounded like someone rushing up towards me. My heart began to pound. Aural hallucinations! I thought frantically to myself. That’s all. No need to worry!

That didn’t stop the sound from getting closer though.

And there was no convenient off button . . .

Behind you!

I swung around just in time to see a dead man sitting atop a horse–a wraith-like cowboy rushing up towards me–death with a revolver in place of his scythe. The skeletal figure took one shot at me.

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Story and photography by Penny C.

Chrystopher. I am now Chrystopher, he told himself once more.

It had been a long time since he had done this . . . Reflect upon himself. Chrystopher promised a new beginning.

That was his hope.

He still couldn’t trust himself not to fall back into old habits–to fall back into his darker self. When everything was young he had been different; he swore that he had never been so evil. He had simply grown into it.

He hated that, but it was the truth. “I hate myself,” he murmured. Chrystopher wasn’t trying to be hard on himself, just honest.

Again with that? a part of him said in derision. Just forget it; it’s futile and you know this. Don’t disappoint yourself!

Perhaps that part of him was right?

“It probably is,” he reminded himself. It was him, after all. At that thought he allowed himself a deep chuckle.

“I was such a bastard!”

You still are! the cynical voice replied. That part of him was his darker self. Chrystopher didn’t have to like it, but that part of him would always be with him; he was better off accepting that now. Memories of the past flooded him with regret. Sometimes he wondered what his life would have been like had he woken up to himself sooner?

Would the king out of darkness still have his wife?

Would his son still have aligned himself with the opposing faction, and would he still have disowned and exiled him?

Would he have absconded his duties as a father, and would he have allowed his mistress to terrorize his children?

Would his youngest daughter be alive today?

When Marianna left he had hated her for it; she was unhappy, and because of that had left him and their children. Da’Kiri–his old self–had fallen into madness. That had been so long ago, he wouldn’t be surprised if she had passed into oblivion.